


there's too much love to go around these days

by bloomfields



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Flashbacks, M/M, Real Madrid CF, Social Media, shameless Christmas fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 06:27:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2722094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloomfields/pseuds/bloomfields
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em> “For Christmas?” He knows it’s not his best line, but he can't really help it. His brain's only just stuttering back to life.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Yes, in the spirit of um, generosity and…sharing?”  James grins winningly and nods, he tangles their fingers together. Isco realises that James can be very persuasive when he wants to be. It’s almost a shame Isco doesn’t need any persuading. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>James comes up with an unusual idea for Isco's Christmas present and turns out, it's just what he always wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there's too much love to go around these days

**Author's Note:**

> is their official name jamisco now? well i'm still jamisco af so here's this.  
> just felt like something christmassy i guess? and this has christmas puns galore.  
> i know the timeline might be weird with the whole club world cup but hey.  
> see if you can spot the exact moment where i wimp out from writing the sex scene properly lmao.  
> the title's from a belle and sebastian song

Glitzy Christmas decorations and car headlights flash past the taxi window as Isco looks out. He tries to focus on the blur of green and red against the night sky, instead of the pulse he can feel thudding through his neck. It’s not that he’s nervous; he’s too close to being drunk to be nervous. But he feels a giddy rush when he looks at James who’s sat on the opposite side of the taxi, his face lit up by the phone in his hands.

James’s teeth reflect the screen’s light as he grins at something on his phone before looking up at Isco. 

“Marcelo sent me this.” James says passing him the phone, their fingers brush obviously. 

“Oh, no.” 

It’s a Snapchat, that James has screenshotted with 4 seconds left. It’s a blurry, dark picture of the two of them stood close together with their arms around each other, his own face is hidden by James’ neck. Clumsy cartoonish hearts had been scrawled around them, and what Isco guesses is supposed to be mistletoe hovers above their heads.

He wordlessly looks up to James and they honest to god, giggle together, unsteady and little hysterical. Isco can feel himself leaning towards James, their heads ducked close.

 

_  
Isco feels it would be ungrateful to say he didn’t enjoy the official Real Madrid Christmas lunch. The food was great, in a health-conscious way, and it’s always nice to talk with his teammates. It’s just there were too many photographers to relax and the group photo with Pérez was just awkward._

_Anyway, he’s glad when everyone agrees to go out properly the night before the Christmas break._

_By half past eleven, the VIP section of the club Isco doesn’t even remember the name of is packed. The music pounds through the floor and Chicha has to yell to carry on his story about the Man United Christmas party._

_“…they even got me little pointy ears! I am not an elf, man. Stop laughing, I’m not!”_

_“You do make a great elf though..” Isco tries to break it to him gently, biting down on a smirk when he sees his offended expression._

_“I do not. How dare you, Francisco. You're like, the same height as me anyway! ”_

_They’re interrupted by Nacho who rushes over and grabs Chicha by the arm, “Quick. Jesé’s trying to hit on three girls at the same time and he needs wingmen. Like, now.” Chicha cackles and leaves with him immediately. Isco suspects they'll do more harm than good._

_Isco looks at the bottom of his empty glass, as he wonders how he ended up in a team full of such drama queens. He leans against the wall, bass from the music vibrates through it. He can see the outline of Marcelo’s hair as he bounces around, saying something to Cris who laughs, his head tipping back – his teeth so bright they look blue in the flashing UV lights. Karim’s standing at the bar next to Toni, who’s somehow got his hands on a huge handled beer glass. Isco watches Sergio lurk behind them, obviously planning on stealing Karim’s flat peak._

_He sees James and Keylor chatting across the room. The Colombian turns and the two of them lock eyes for a second, James smiles a little, private smile. He turns back to Keylor and excuses himself, patting the keeper on the shoulder and gesturing away. Isco doesn’t even need to watch to know that James is walking towards him._

_When he reaches Isco, James instantly loops an arm round his neck and presses a kiss to the corner of his jaw, and then leans back. His arm stays, their chests are so close Isco can feel him breathing in and out._

_“Hello” He says, grinning lazily. Isco knows if it wasn’t so dark, he would be able to count the freckles on James’ face just inches away._

_“Hey” He replies, his arm instinctively finds its way round James’ back. It’s not the first time they’ve found themselves in this position. The two of them had gotten closer over recent months, and Isco quickly learnt James is an especially touchy drunk. And they’re an affectionate group of guys, his team, so a hug or a smooch on the cheek isn’t out of the ordinary._

_But then again, when James starts to leave feather-light kisses up his neck and fingertips press underneath the hem of his t-shirt, Isco’s heart starts to pound a little faster. He feels the tingle of warm breath against his skin. He suddenly doesn’t know where to put his hands, they awkwardly skim over his back as James hums happily running his mouth up and then down Isco’s neck. Isco’s positive he feels a flick of a tongue and a graze of teeth on his collarbone, before James ducks to place a kiss on his Adam’s apple. Isco moves a hand to James’ hip and squeezes._

_James leans back and Isco’s never seen that expression on his face before; he looks halfway between embarrassed and wanting. He’s pretty sure his own face just looks dazed._

_“I, um, so I didn’t buy you anything for Christmas…” James strokes along the back of Isco’s neck and looks past his shoulder, “and I was thinking that, I, um, that instead of a gift, I could, I mean we could-”_

_“James,” Isco interrupts his nervous mumbling. The hoarseness of his own voice surprises him. Again he squeezes James’ hip, and brushes his knuckles up his side in a hopefully reassuring way, “what are you talking about?”_

_James looks at him, and slowly takes in the fondness Isco knows he is radiating. James drops his head to Isco’s shoulder and laughs. Isco’s never been this happy and kind of turned on, yet confused all at the same before._

_James stands straighter, rolling his shoulders and visibly steeling himself to just say it, whatever it is._

_“I was going to say, I was thinking we could both go to yours tonight, and I’d like you to uh, fuck me.” He says in one quick exhale, before taking in another shaky breath, “For Christmas.”_

_Isco’s mind stalls. He thinks his jaw might’ve dropped. He hadn’t ever told James about the liking to fuck guys thing. Or more specifically, the liking cute Colombian guys with tight bodies and puppy-dog smiles thing._

_James drops his hand from Isco’s neck, sensing his shock and preparing to escape. Isco catches his hand before he can run off._

_“For Christmas?” He knows it’s not his best line, but he can't really help it. His brain's only just stuttering back to life._

_“Yes, in the spirit of um, generosity and…sharing?” James grins winningly and nods, he tangles their fingers together. Isco realises that James can be very persuasive when he wants to be. It’s almost a shame Isco doesn’t need any persuading._

_“Makes sense.” Isco says, leaning in. Finally closing the gap between them, he kisses him.  
_

 

“Aren’t you worried about the taxi driver telling someone?” James asks, his voice low and intimate, as they walk the stairs to Isco’s front door. It’s not like they’d done anything in the taxi backseat, Isco has some pride, but you’d have to be completely oblivious to miss what was going on. 

“Nah,” Isco shrugs as he unlocks the door “Did you see the size of the tip I gave him? He won’t say a word.” 

James laughs at the deliberately asshole-ish comment, loud and echoing into the empty hallway. 

“You Spanish are so flashy -always talking with your wallets.” James actually mimes a talking mouth with his hand and Isco is delighted.

“Well, maybe…” Isco’s voice drops an octave as he reaches out and uses James’ belt buckle to pull him in close, until their bodies are touching like they were in the club. Their faces are tantalisingly close, their noses brush, “Maybe, that’s because our mouths are busy doing something else”

James tips his head back, laughing in a delirious, drunken way. Isco admires the stretched out, pale line of his neck.

“Busy doing what? Talking shit?” James says, his whole face looks like it’s lit up and shining. 

He gets so mixed up in that smile he can’t think of a decent comeback; so he just gives in and kisses him again. 

 

James hungrily returns the kiss, placing his hand on Isco’s face and Isco feels him lightly drag his blunt nails through his beard. Isco pulls him in tight by the hips and leans forward, he marvels in how James’ body moulds to fit his. 

James breathes in heavy as Isco moves his hands down to his ass and he uses his teeth to roll James’ bottom lip between them and sucks gently. He opens his eyes to watch James’ eyes stutteringly blink open, his pupils blown. 

“Upstairs?” He whispers, both of them breathing in each other's air. James nods and makes some incoherent noise; Isco would tease him about it if he wasn’t concentrating on walking up the stairs backwards, both of them wrapped up in each other.

He thinks that this probably requires too much coordination for two men as turned on and tipsy as they are, and they’re about halfway up before he stumbles and falls backwards, pulling James down with him. He lands heavily, the step edges dig into his back, James catches himself on his hands to stop himself from crashing into him.

 

Isco groans as the pain fades and shouts indignantly when he realises James is burying his laughter into his chest.

“I’m sorry, it’s just..” He tails off into more snickering “You’re so _not_ smooth, it’s funny”

“Hey.” 

Isco looks at him and James' laughter slowly dwindles into a dopey, affectionate smile.

“Sorry.”

James pushes himself higher on his hands so he can reach Isco’s mouth, kissing away his offended expression. His body settles on top of Isco’s, and his hand cradles his head.  
Isco’s gradually becomes aware of James’ thigh between his own legs as their mouths move together. He forgets about the stairs digging into his back when he grinds his hips upwards, holding onto James’ hips. James drags his teeth down his neck and moans as Isco strains upwards. He feels James’ hand warm underneath his t-shirt, on the bare skin of his back. It hits Isco that they’d better move unless James wants him to come just from dry-humping on the stairs. 

“C’mon. Bedroom.” 

He can’t articulate full sentences but James gets the idea. They clamber up the rest of the stairs and at last, Isco pushes open the door to his bedroom. Or rather, he falls through it as James mouths at the vertebrae on the back of his neck.

Isco’s own t-shirt has been pulled off by the time they reach the bed and he pushes James down to lie on the bed while he crawls up his body and sits on top of his thighs.  
With clumsy hands Isco undoes the buttons on James’ shirt, he leans forward and for each button he undoes, he kisses the newly exposed skin. When Isco has undone all the buttons, James sits up and impatiently shucks off the shirt. They kiss, messy and panting, while they work on undoing each other’s trousers.

Isco makes a lame joke about unwrapping his Christmas present as he unzips James’ flies, who laughs into his mouth. His laughter turns into a strangled moan as Isco eventually reaches a hand into his boxers. Isco grins and nips at James’ mouth. He sucks hard on James’ tongue as he twists his hand around his dick. 

 

Isco’s not sure how long the whole thing lasts once they’ve both finally gotten their clothes off. It feels like the time passes in a blur yet some things he can remember in vivid detail. He probably couldn’t describe the moment he actually came in more words than just _amazing_ , but he can still see the way James’ hair stuck to the sweat on his forehead and neck, inky and damp. Isco can feel the phantom pressure of James’ hand clasping onto his as he arched and writhed beneath him. He remembers plainly how much stronger James’ accent got when he swore and begged; and the noise he made when he came still rings in Isco’s ears. 

 

The morning sunlight burns through Isco’s eyelids, glowing red. He turns and buries his face in the pillow. The complete silence of the bedroom creeps up on Isco, along with the realisation that he’s now alone in his bed. Something in Isco sinks, heavy with disappointment and he forces himself to open his eyes. The creased, empty pillows next to him confirm his fears. He has to smile at how James must’ve neatly made his side of the bed before leaving; the covers flat and undisturbed. 

If Isco was being honest, when the two of them had fallen asleep together in the early hours, he hadn’t put any thought into what would happen in the (later) morning when they woke up. They had been so busy kissing and fucking, they hadn’t had time for any talking. 

Isco sits on the edge of his bed, and rubs his bleary eyes so hard he sees clouds of colour flare up under his eyelids. The effect of the alcohol he drank last night lingers, as does the smell of sex on the bed sheets.

He blinks and looks up, it is only now that he notices a scrap of paper folded on his bedside table. His chest skips a little in surprise and he reaches over and grabs it.

_I have to go._  
 _Sorry for not saying goodbye properly but you look too happy._  
 _Thank you for last night._  
 _James_  


Isco groans, letting himself fall back on the bed. It’s clumsily polite, of course, but Isco knows full well what leaving early without saying goodbye usually means. Couldn’t James have helped clear up the situation even a little? Just a _let’s do it again_ or even a _let’s forget it ever happened_ so Isco would at least know where they stand.

He looks for his jeans which he finds heaped next to the bead, where James had left them last night, Isco gets his phone out of the pocket. He thinks about phoning James, looking for his number in his contacts. He doesn’t press it though, feeling too vulnerable to face what could be a hideously painful putdown over the phone.

 

Instead he opens the team WhatsApp group and regrets it almost instantly. Marcelo had obviously felt the need to share the picture of James and Isco on there too, saying ‘Feliz Navidad everyone!!’ beneath it. Isco can’t even read everyone’s replies as the mortification sets in, he scrolls quickly through a blur of _‘JAJAJAA’_ s and kissy emojis. The most recent comment at the bottom of the phone screen was Iker’s ‘I don’t care what you do as long as you idiots stay in shape over the break’ which Sergio had backed up with a long line of praying hands. He turns his phone off, tossing it on the bed.

 

Isco stands up and at least he’s already naked, so he only has to shuffle blindly into the shower. The steaming water flattens his hair to his scalp and runs in rivulets down. Isco desperately tries not to picture James, but the memory of him pressed close against his back when he opened his bedroom door is all he can think of. How James would feel right now, his body wet and naked and his mouth hungry and eager-

“Fuck.” He groans, leaning his forehead against the shower tiles. At least before he only had his imagination to work with, now Isco has extremely vivid real-life material. He turns the dial on the shower down till the water is viciously cold.

 

Isco spends the day round at Victoria’s. When he gets there she hands him his baby boy with a kiss on the cheek, before she rushes the change her baby-vomit covered top. Isco knows their ‘fallen out of love but still parents together’ situation is unorthodox but they still make a great team. 

Isco Jr succeeds in keeping them busy all day, with his typical baby mix of cute and a bit disgusting. 

 

It’s not until the evening, when the early winter darkness has fully set in and Isco Jr is asleep on his chest, the two of them finally get to talk properly. Victoria only has to say “Ok, spill it. You’ve been distracted all day.” over the top of her wine glass, and Isco tells her the whole story. She laughs and nods sympathetically at the right points but the only advice she offers is “Man up and talk to him, _puta_.”

He falls asleep on Victoria’s sofa as she catches up on her DVR’ed telenovelas. Jr thankfully remains quiet as he rises and falls with Isco’s chest movements, Isco holds onto one of tiny, pudgy hands. 

It’s late when he finally wakes up. Isco Jr starts to cry so Victoria scoops him up and rocks him against her shoulder for a minute.

“Do you want me to stay?” He asks, mumbling through the sleep in the voice. 

“No, he’s just hungry.” She smiles, still as fiercely independent as ever “I’ll come and bring him round yours tomorrow” 

Isco gets up and presses a kiss to his son’s head, then on her cheek, and murmurs his goodbyes.

 

When he parks up at his house, Isco’s mind is busy thinking of how he and Victoria are going to have to pretend to still be together for their families when they go back to Málaga for Christmas. And what a nightmare Jr will probably be on the plane. He’s so busy thinking it takes him a second to notice James sat on the step of his front door. 

 

“Hey” James says, he looks sheepish and freezing. His hands tucked under arms. “You weren’t answering your phone, so I came round…and then you weren’t answering your door”

“Oh,” Isco sits down next to him, close but not touching. He watches James, whose nose had gone pink from the cold, “yeah, I was trying to avoid any more WhatsApp notifications. So I left my phone at home.”

James laughs towards his feet, rocking forward, he hums in agreement. 

“I saw that too. Sorry I left this morning.” He says, meeting Isco’s eyes properly for the first time “Daniela called because Salomé was running a fever and she was panicking, which made me panic, and we had to run to the doctor. And apparently it’s nothing serious but you can’t help but worry, you know? And my head was all over the place from this morning anyway, I didn’t know if, if last night was a 'stay for breakfast' type of thing or a uh, 'sneak off in the night' type of thing but yeah…sorry.”

James’ rant tails off awkwardly and he looks back down at the ground. Isco doesn’t really know where to start.

“So Salomé’s okay now?” Isco nudges James’ leg with his knee.

“Yeah she’s alright” He nods, his smile looks tiny and vulnerable compared to his usual sunny, teeth-filled beam “Anyway I better get back. It’s late.”

He pushes himself up off his knees and moves to walk back to his car. Isco has to scramble to his feet before James can leave.

“Wait, hold on, you can’t-“ Isco doesn’t really know what he wants to say, his tongue seems stuck to his mouth, but Victoria’s instruction of _man up and talk_ echoes loud in his head “James, you can’t leave. We need to talk about last night, don’t we?”

James turns back halfway, his body still poised to leave. Isco can’t decipher whether it’s cautious hope or wariness in his expression. 

“Do we?”

“Yes, of course we do, you idiot.” Isco says as he walks closer, he realises he’s just going to have to bite the bullet. The light from Isco’s doorway strikes half of James' face when he reaches him, so he looks a bit like the moon at its first quarter 

“I still don’t know what you want, James! Did you want to sneak off before I woke up or did you want the whole breakfast in bed thing? I mean, was last night just some ridiculous one-off because it’s Christmas and you were drunk or is it something, are we something, you want to happen again?” His breathing comes out heavy, but Isco feels free having finally gotten this weight off his chest, “Because God knows, I want that.”

James is silent for moment, his eyes dark and blazing. Then, Isco watches as his expression slowly lights up, and Isco feels crazy for thinking it, but he lights up like a Christmas tree. 

James leans forward and presses his lips to the corner of Isco’s mouth. He moves away, barely, his breath landing warm on Isco’s cheek. 

“Yes, I’d like for us to happen again too.” 

They watch each other silently for a minute. Isco’s arm wraps around James’ back, underneath his jacket, and he smothers his face into his neck. Isco tries to soak in the feeling, breathing in deep. 

 

He almost ruins the romance of the moment by mumbling an awful joke about him being _the gift that keeps on giving_ , but James just laughs into his ear.

**Author's Note:**

> idk it's a bit of a hot mess but feel free to let me know what you thought!


End file.
